


Like Dreams and Delusions

by VenueWings



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Guardians of the Galaxy - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Bad Decisions, Banishment, Betrayal, Everyone Has Issues, Except she has her own agenda, Fandral has been banished, Flashbacks, Flashbacks used to tell a story, Gamora helps the Nova Corps, Garthan Saal brings the team together, Like how Peter and Ronan actually met, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Peter is part of the Dark Aster crew, Post-Thor: The Dark World, Rescue Missions, Rocket is Not Amused, Sneaking Around, Teambuilding, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-08 01:57:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4286253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenueWings/pseuds/VenueWings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the GOTG Kink Meme (paraphased): When the Kree/Xandar war was in full swing, the Ravagers decided to rob a Xandarian laboratory, thinking it'll be full of stuff to resell. Instead, they found out it's performing twisted experiments on unwilling subjects. Peter Quill found one subject still alive: a young Ronan. Peter somehow convinced Yondu to take Ronan back to his home planet of Kree-lar, and during the journey grew close to Ronan, leaving only when the Ravagers had to flee Kree forces intending to scapegoat them for Ronan's disappearance.<br/>Years later, Peter and several Ravagers are caught in a trap. Just as it looks like Peter is going to get raped and killed, a large Kree accuser arrives, kills the captors and announces that "The rest of you may leave, but I'm taking this one." Ronan offers Peter a position on the Dark Aster in gratitude for helping him out, and Peter takes it. Ronan's in love with Peter, but can't say it for a variety of reasons, especially not with everyone already looking at him funny for being so close to a non-Kree and Thanos' daughters joining Ronan's crusade. With Thanos involved, there is going to be all sorts of chaos, and all bets are off....</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There’s a part of Peter, before he’s completely consumed by terror, that hopes Yondu kills this group of Ravagers. He knows it’s not fair, that they were just as frightened as he is, but the way they shrink back unhelpfully as he is dragged out of the cell makes him just as angry as he was afraid. 

“No! Please, let me go!” 

“Oh yea, just like that, babe,” the man dragging him out is panting with something other than exertion. He’s already rubbing against Peter’s body, grinding their hips together so lewdly that Peter feels sick. The other guards are hooting and jeering, watching Peter struggle helplessly in their teammate’s arms. 

The man isn’t even patient enough to go far, he dragged Peter to the empty cell across and threw him on the cot. Peter landed face first into the thin mattress, if it could even be called that, and before he could scramble up there was a weight straddling him and a hand pushing his neck down. He choked as another hand went for his belt, but his cries were muffled this time. He could still hear though, the clinking of a loosening belt, the taunting of the other guards. 

He was probably going to die after this, if he isn’t shared among any of the other guards first. Oh god, please just let him die before that. 

Distantly he heard the door to the brig sliding open, some voices and then…

An enraged, murderous roar. 

It’s brief chaos and an explosion of noise, the jeering replaced by shouting, the short relief as the hands on him are suddenly removed and thrown off. He looked up and terror struck him again as he saw the Kree standing above him, even bigger than his previous captor, powerful muscles hardly covered by the forbidding black armour. The Kree raised a large warhammer and in one swift stroke, killed Peter’s captor. The newcomer then turned to him. 

Peter knew it was useless, but he shrank back anyways, pressing his back against the wall. There are tears in his eyes and he is terrified, of what this Kree could do to him, of what this bigger being may want. A large hand reached out for him and Peter flinched back. 

Surprisingly, the hand stopped, the Kree looking at him with an unreadable look in his eyes. Maybe he’s disgusted, Peter was shaking and crying, maybe the Kree wouldn’t be interested and just kill him as quickly as it would take for him to squish a bug…

“Release the prisoners,” the deep voice ordered, eyes never leaving Peter. “The rest of you may leave, but I’m taking this one.” 

The orders were obeyed swiftly, two Sakaaran unlocking the cell the Ravagers were in and ushering them out with warning hisses. A few of the Ravagers sent Peter guilty looks, most avoided his gaze, and disappeared out the door. 

Leaving him alone with the Kree.

He was terrified, he was going to die, he was going to be tortured, he was…

“ _Oh child, things are going to get easier…_ ” 

W-what? 

“ _Oh child, things are going to get brighter…_ ” 

That, that was his song, his and his mother’s, only the Ravagers and…

“ _Someday we’ll get it together…_ ” 

Almost unconsciously he felt his tense body relaxing, even as he knew it was dangerous, the Kree could probably snap his neck with one hand but the song, if not the Ravagers there was only one other…

“ _Someday when the world is much brighter…_ ” 

“Ro…Ronan?” 

The song ended softly, as did some of the intensity in the Kree’s eyes, “Peter Quill.” 

Now that Peter knew what to look for, he could see some resemblance, but the differences were very pronounced. Ronan wasn’t just older, he wasn’t the starved and terrified boy who Peter had rescued and helped comfort. The frightened skinny test subject that Peter saved had grown to an intimidating adult male, with the bulk and mass to back up what was probably a ton of power and battle ferocity. He probably outweighed Peter three to one now, and if the Sakaaran goons and the black war paint was any indication, Ronan was not just powerful in the physical sense, but influential. 

“What…” what happened to you, what are you doing here, what have you done, “…what are you planning to do with me?” 

Something flashed in Ronan’s eyes, before it was quickly hidden. Instead an open hand was offered, not reaching out for Peter, just an open palm.

“Come with me,” Ronan did his best not to sound threatening or pleading, “I have a ship, the Dark Aster. For your past kindness, let me repay you. Stay with me.”

This was insane, Peter had no idea what the other had been up to but it was definitely something that would make the Ravagers’ piracy look like small time. Peter had just witnessed Ronan kill someone with ease, Ronan hadn’t even flinched. 

“Peter,” Ronan promised, “I will protect you.” 

The Ravagers who had left him, the terror he had felt at the mercy of his captors…

The terran reached out and took Ronan’s hand. 

** 

The Xanderian’s blood was still warm when Nebula stepped into the room. 

“Ronan, Korath has returned.” 

Silently the Kree stood and went to greet his other ally. Nebula trailed after him silently, saying nothing, but her eyes burned as he made a quick detour to another room. The seemingly immovable walls folded away at his presence, and the clashing of blades met his ears. Two figures were sparring, a green-skinned female and a male who unfortunately often got mistaken for a Xanderian. 

“Peter, Gamora.” 

The fighters stopped, Gamora didn’t look affected but Peter was flushed and sweaty. What Ronan wouldn’t do for Peter to look like that for reasons other than sparring, or to stop it altogether because it was a _distracting_ sight. Peter had wanted to train with Thanos’ daughters, and as reluctant as Ronan initially had been, Peter had argued he wanted to be able to defend himself. 

He shouldn’t have to defend himself, Ronan could protect him, and if he wasn’t there he could certainly spare a Sakaaran – or three, or seven – to do so. Peter didn’t like being followed when he went out though, and yes, Peter did want to go out a _lot_ , and it was something he would argue with Ronan about. 

“Has Korath returned?” Peter asked. 

“Did he retrieve the orb?” Gamora added. 

“No, someone else got there first,” Nebula answered, and Peter openly frowned even as Gamora remained expressionless. 

Korath reported to them in the concise way he always handled his affairs: “Master, he is an Asgardian, an exile who calls himself Fandral. Our sources say he was one of the handful to commit treason in Asgard during the Dark Elves’ attack, and punished by being exiled until he proves himself worthy of the king’s trust again. We damaged the ship he was on and picked up his frequency, he is heading to Xander.” 

Peter stood silently by Ronan’s side, watching as Ronan reflected on their current situation and Thanos’ daughters argued about going to Xander. At Nebula’s resentful glare for Ronan’s final decision, Peter stayed quiet. To him, he had always thought Ronan liked Nebula, preferred her over Gamora even. 

Nebula had been the only person who called Peter Ronan’s pet and not get hurt for it, and Ronan didn’t even bother correcting her. While Peter could think Ronan as playing it safe – a prized pet was a lesser threat than an equal, and who knows what Thanos’ daughters may report – he couldn’t help wondering if that was what Ronan really saw him as. The Sakaaran, despite showing him deference, definitely thought so. 

Gamora had been one of the few people Peter had met since joining the Dark Aster crew who had treated him as an equal. It had gotten to the point where Peter was starting to consider making an escape, maybe he’ll even take the orb for himself just to show Ronan that he _could_ , but that would just screw Gamora over and probably piss off Thanos, so he didn’t. 

Naturally, when he heard Gamora got arrested by the Nova corps, he made the decision to save her.

**

If Thor had taken up the throne, they might have been spared this. As he did not, Odin made an example of his son’s friends. Sure, the Dark Elves were defeated, but to turn Asgardian blades against fellow Asgardians was unforgivable. For the crime of treason, the defiance of Odin the All-father’s orders, the traitors were banished from Asgard until they ‘proved themselves worthy’ once more. Unlike with Thor, who had at least remained in the Nine Realms, Fandral was sentenced much further away. 

“Is that an Asgardian?” 

“What is one doing so far from their empire?” 

“Half-World really gets some interesting guests, don’t they?” 

Fandral kept his head high as he strode through into the hotel, drawing curious eyes and whispers. A less confident man would have squirmed at the attention, but Fandral was used to adventures with the royal princes. He thrived on attention, and catching the eye of several ladies, gave them a charming smile. Their giggles followed him as he stepped through the crowd, liking how many of the more humanoid guests even stepped back. Asgardians were genetically taller and stronger than the average Xanderian, and for a warrior like Fandral, that was even more so. 

“Asgardian,” the Broker looked surprised when Fandral approached him. Fandral made a show of looking around the room, as if he hadn’t already scouted the area as soon as he got close. 

“Politicians, crime bosses, cops…this is some very impressive party here, Broker.” 

“The Head Doctor is a very important figure, his research in genetics is…” 

“Based off the illegal research of Half-world, as even a foreigner like me has been able to pick up.” A few guests glanced sharply at him, and others moved away. The people who knew about the party host’s shady connections, and still built networks with him. “Corporate espionage and high tech research always seem to be crimes that pay, so does playing the middleman for some highly sought-after goods.” 

The Broker didn’t even look phased, “I give my clients a most discreet way of securing their desires by paying for the services of another party, you’ll be surprised at how law-aiding that keeps the populace.” 

“I’m not one of your Nova corps, Broker,” Fandral drawled. “I don’t have to go through the motions where I ask you about something, you deny knowing anything, and I escalate until one of us gives up. Discreet as you were, I’ve traced several parties tracking down that Orb back to you. Did you know some of your employees are also trying to act as middleman, trying to outsource their jobs to lower-paid mercenaries?” 

“I don’t need to learn about the details of how the job goes, as long as I get results.” 

“Well, this time you might have gone over your head, Xanderian. I didn’t have to just outrun a group of Ravagers to get the orb, if you don’t know the name Thanos, you should at the very least know the name of Ronan.” 

The Broker’s dismissive expression changed, although he kept his voice at a whisper there was now a shrill quality to it, “Ronan?!” 

“The fanatic they call the Accuser,” Fandral confirmed. “Really, what do you think will happen when he finds out that you are the one financing all the troubles he’d had to run into trying to find this orb?”

“I want no part of this transaction if Ronan is involved!” 

“I mention Thanos and yet it’s Ronan you’re scared of, but I suppose with the recent war it makes sense. Since I doubt Thanos would just be interested in a fancy toy, tell me, what exactly is this orb?” 

“Put it away!” the Broker hissed as Fandral reached under his jacket. “Did you not hear what I said? If Ronan is involved in this I want nothing to do with it!” 

“Tell me why Thanos wants this!” 

“I am not you Asgardians, I do not wish to start a battle…!” 

“Is there a problem, gentlemen?” The man suddenly materializing behind them caused the two to jump, the fact that it wasn’t even one of the wait staff but a Nova officer in full dress uniform meant the newcomer drew much more attention and authority from the bystanders. 

“Denarian Saal,” the Broker greeted nervously, “We’re fine, really.” 

The tall officer had sharp, assessing eyes and a face that could be handsome if it didn’t wear such an unimpressed look. Fandral had no doubt that the man was already noting down their presence and planning to keep an eye on the two of them, but before any more could be said another guest was already ushering over. 

“Ah, Denarian! I was looking for you! I was assured the transport of my present would be most secured with you!” 

A flicker of exasperation crossed over Garthan Saal’s eyes before the officer turned away, assuring the guest that ‘the truck had just pulled in and your present will be delivered promptly’. With the Denarian distracted, the Broker released a breath, turned to move away, and froze. 

“Asgardian, the whole reason you wanted to get the orb was so you can prove you’ve in some way defied Thanos, and can return to Asgard with honour?”

“Yes,” it was the truth. 

“I don’t want to be part of this anymore, but it seems like it’s already too late,” there was a tremor in the Broker’s voice now. Fandral frowned, following the other’s eyes across the crowd, pass the Denarian speaking into his com and the other distinguished guests, past the professional staff…

“Oh,” Fandral drew in a breath. It was another uninvited guest who had sneaked into the party, a green-skinned beauty with dark hair shot with crimson. 

Gamora, daughter of Thanos, wanted dead or alive across several galaxies, including the Nine Realms. 

His return to Asgard, Fandral could practically taste it as he ran his tongue over his lips. Forget the orb, if he took down Gamora, Odin will definitely end his exile. 

Gamora met his eyes as the Asgardian began to approach her, ignoring the Denarian – who was showing faint hints of concern as he asked the party on the other line to respond now, to answer – Fandral continued his approach. He tried not to make his pace too eager, and Gamora was glancing around, as if trying to see if there were more people approaching her. 

“ _Attention, guests, I would like to say a Happy Birthday to our host…_ ” 

The guests were all looking at someone who had decided to start making a speech, Fandral dimly registered him as the same portly man who had distracted the Denarian to get information about his present. He smiled as Gamora seemed just as content in ignoring the speechmaker, now that she could see no one else approaching her she had focused her attention on him. 

“ _…I wish to give you my present, something that you should recognize and be proud of…_ ” 

“Care for a drink?” Fandral asked, charm coating his voice and manner. 

“No thank you,” Gamora replied. 

“A woman of few words,” Fandral smiled, “Your interest does not lie in these exotic drinks, nor have you tried approaching any of the other guests. I’m curious then, what a girl like you is doing here.” 

“What are you thinking?” Her voice was almost deceptively soft, almost coy, and Fandral leaned forward to whisper in her ear. 

“I’m curious why one of Thanos’ daughters hasn’t killed any of the important guests here.” 

He was ready for a physical retaliation, of a punch or a kick or even a weapon drawn, but aside for a stiffening of her shoulders Gamora didn’t move. Fandral continued, “This party doesn’t seem like your scene, a bit stuffy, why don’t we go outside for some air, Gamora?” 

Gamora stared at the Asgardian, was it going to be this unbelievably easy to get the orb? 

“ _…old genetic experiments to create a superior form of life…_ ” 

“…Team alpha," Garthan barked, "Please respond with your status and location of the truck…” 

In the underground parking of the hotel, a truck lay smashed and crunched to the side. Scattered nearby were bodies, half dressed in lab coats and the other half in black suits. A radio continued cracking with the transmission. 

“ _…please respond with your status and location of the truck…_ ” 

The radio exploded under the blast of gunfire from the oversized weapon wielded by a raccoon. Beside him, a tall humanoid tree let out a concerned noise, moving to step closer to his tired friend, but Rocket let out a snort. 

“I’m fine, Groot, those jerks underestimated me.” 

“I am Groot.”

“I am not some traumatized victim! I escaped, didn’t I? You helped, but I would have gotten out eventually.” Hefting the gun he had assembled out of the random tools he had been able to retrieve, Rocket eyed the elevator he was supposed to be taken up in, to be presented for someone’s birthday present. 

“I was told I’m going to see an old friend from Half-world,” Rocket growled. “Well, fine, I’m going to show them just how well their experiment has turned out.” 

Back in the hotel above, Gamora and Fandral faced each other at an empty corridor. The noise of the party was shut off behind closed doors, and there was enough space for a good fight without the collateral damage that they both, unbeknownst to each other, wanted to avoid. 

“So, Gamora,” Fandral started pleasantly. “The way you were assessing the people in there, you were definitely looking for someone. I’ve done some traveling with the Asgardian princes, both in hunting expenditures and in battle, I know what it’s like when someone is trying to stalk prey. I have one person in mind you could be looking for, but I don’t think he’s someone that warrants your attention when there are so many lesser mercenaries.” 

“If you’re referring to your friend the Broker, you’ll be right.” Gamora agreed, “But he is not my target. My target isn’t even a person, once I have it, I’ll be taking my leave. No deaths, no panic, no one will know I was even here.” 

“No resistance to whatever your mission here was,” Fandral pointed out, “There are security and even Nova corps in that room, but you still came. Whatever it is, Thanos or Ronan must want it pretty badly, and there’s only one thing that the Broker could be involved in: the orb.” 

“Which is in your possession, why do you think I’m so willing to leave the room with you?” 

“For me?” 

“Keep dreaming, Asgardian, hand over the orb and I won’t kill you.” 

“I can’t do that, short of me killing you the orb is my ticket back to Asgard.” 

“And the orb is my ticket out of Ronan’ and Thanos’ influence, no one, not even an Asgardian, is going to come between me and my freedom.” Gamora was moving before the last word was pass her lips, and she pounced. Fandral only had a split second to think _what_ at Gamora’s confession before he was forced to defend himself. 

Who knows how long their fight could have lasted, Fandral was one of the best warriors of Asgard and Gamora was one of Thanos’ most lethal children. They favoured blades but were just as dangerous in hand-to-hand combat. 

They just never got to finish because while they were keeping their fight quiet, an explosion soon rocked the hotel building. Shortly after the doors burst open, and the party goers were rushing out, screaming. As the foreigner and the assassin got caught up in the crowd, they heard an enraged scream: 

“Genetic experiments for the greater good? Wait until you get a load of me!” 

**

The doctor’s records were supposed to expunged, his Half-world experimentation days gone after he signed on to help Xander strengthen their officers so they could defeat their Kree enemies. Garthan knew that just because they were officially forgiven, the victims of the crimes often took it upon themselves to get revenge, and Subject 89P13 was no exception. 

Revenge made people stupid, and firing at a function where there were Nova corps even more so. At least it drew backup, and brought in some surprising arrests. 

“I understand that we’ll release the Asgardian, he tried to help the crowd and stop Subject 89P13, what I don’t see is why we haven’t just thrown the rest of those we arrested into maximum security.” 

This was probably the first time Garthan was letting his agitation at orders show, especially when Nova Prime was the one issuing them to him, in person. If she was surprised at his gall, she hid it well, continuing her brisk march down the green-lit corridors that led to the prison transfers. The number of officers bustling around them gradually decreased, replaced by the more heavily armed guards standing in silent vigil. This was one of the most secured wings of the building, heavily fortified and guarded, meant for the most dangerous criminals as they finished processing and awaited transfer to the prisons. 

As Denarian, Garthan was familiar with this part of the building, and before she became Nova Prime so did his now-superior. Nova Primes rarely came down to this corridor, but Irani Rael always had a way of doing what she wanted. 

“The Asgardian confirmed what our interrogators with Gamora said, she intends to betray Ronan.” 

“How do we know she’s not lying?” 

“She has no reason to, besides, we are not exactly letting her free. She has useful skills, and will be a great asset to your team.”

“ _My_ team?”

They arrived to the cells, each holding a new inmate and monitored by fully armed guard. In the nearest cell, Gamora was sitting stiffly, and though Garthan knew it was a one-way mirror her eyes looked up and seemed to meet his own, as if the assassin in her could sense where her next target was at. 

“The Kree are not doing anything about Ronan, we need a response team. Our hands are tied because of the peace treaty, and we can’t just send anyone after Ronan. Furthermore, should the mission be compromised…” 

“You can just write them off, no,” Garthan understood, “You want _me_ to write them off?”

In his cell, Rocket paced around angrily. His record of escaping incarcerations had shown up when they were processing him, and the Nova corps had thoroughly searched and stripped him down. They weren’t taking chances this time, Rocket would be flattered that he was seen as such a big threat, if it didn’t mean making his escape that much harder. 

“As much as I would like to oversee the operation, I admit I cannot always be there.” 

“You’re putting me in charge of a group of criminals to go after Ronan?” 

Groot was swaying quietly in his cell, almost childlike. Xander was one of the most multi-species planets in the world and yet Garthan never saw anything like him. Although he knew appearances could be deceiving, Garthan would have thought Groot just any innocent civilian, if not for the long list of convictions. When provoked, the gentle giant was a monster. 

As was the inmate in the next cell, “Is that…?” 

“Yes,” Irani answered, “We transferred him, along with a few others, just moments ago. There is no point in assembling a team to take down Ronan, without bringing in one of the best we have. Meet Drax the Destroyer, the one they say has killed more Kree soldiers in one year than most would in a lifetime.” 

Garthan managed to stop himself from mouthing wordlessly, letting her continue. “As to why you of all my men and women have been selected for this task, I believe you will not abuse your new position, but you will also understand the moral implications involved with this: made possible thanks to the Asgardian.” 

He scanned the report she showed him, a more moral man would flinch, “This...” 

“You don’t need to trust your team, Denarian Saal, the Asgardian is starved for a recommendation home with honours, he will _ensure_ their cooperation.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on December 2014


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we have our first Peter-Ronan flashback, and the team of misfits get to meet each other, they still don't really like each other much.

_“This is insane, Peter, let him go, you don’t know if he’ll die if we take him off those wires…”_

_“He’s going to die if we leave him here! Kraglin, please, help me!”_

_“This is a Xandar lab, and that is a Kree, a blue Kree,” Kraglin shook his head. “Do you know the shitstorm that will hit as soon as the news comes out?”_

_“Kraglin!” Peter didn’t move, he stood by the half-opened glass pod where the blue-skinned Kree was held, a child probably older than Peter but horribly thin and stretched out. “We have to help him!”_

_“What are you two doing?” Another Ravager came running into the room, judging by the bags he had robbed all the medical first aid supplies. “Let’s get out of here already! Meroob is razing the place to the ground, if someone doesn’t snap him out of it this whole place is going down…is that a Kree? Is he even alive?”_

_Almost to his surprise, Peter felt weak fingers graze over his arm. The Kree was looking at him, even as he answered weakly, “Yes.”_

_Just one word, but that settled it. Peter turned to the others, and there was a grim determination on his face. “I’m not going to leave him here, I’m…we are going to take him to Yondu.” ___

__Peter opened his eyes, it wasn’t like he had fallen asleep standing here in the shadows of the buildings. His thoughts had simply wandered, back to when he first met Ronan, it seemed a lifetime ago._ _

__Plumes of purple smoke drifted around him like fog, disappearing high into the night skies. It also obscured his identity, the few homeless and staggers not even looking at him. When the door to the building across the street finally opened, Peter made to step out, only to pause when several men exited, half of which were dressed in familiar jackets._ _

__“It was good to see you, Meroob.”_ _

__“Likewise, Kraglin.”_ _

__The Ravagers left, leaving Meroob and three of his men alone. Once the Ravagers were out of sight Peter stepped out of the shadows and into the light, Meroob squinted his eyes at the figure approaching through the smoke before he smirked._ _

__“Peter Quill, you just missed the old Ravagers gang.”_ _

__“Meroob,” Peter didn’t rise to the bait. “I want to make use of your contacts.”_ _

__“How demanding,” Meroob rumbled. “What are you offering?”_ _

__“I am not trading, someone may be at risk and I don’t have time to play your games.”_ _

__“Make time,” Meroob said curtly. At the corner of his eyes Peter saw Meroob’s men surrounding him, one of them already had his hand on a gun. “I know you run with different people now, but you know how this works. If you can’t make payment we’ll take it in your flesh, Ronan’s whore.”_ _

__The first man who tried to grab Peter earned an elbow to the face, and before he was down Peter was using his shoulder as support to kick the man with the gun. The terran’s other leg knocked the gun out of his assailant’s hand and sent it scattering back towards the building. Peter’s own gun was drawn, he fired three blasts in quick succession and sent all three men to the ground. The gun then pointed between Meroob’s eyes._ _

__“We are both former Ravagers, Meroob, I know _exactly_ how this works.” Around them the three men were groaning, Peter hadn’t aimed to kill but he made sure they couldn’t surprise-attack him. “Right now, you are working for me. Her name is Gamora, green-skinned, black-and-red hair, a Zen-Whoberi, last seen on Xandar’s Grand View hotel. Official documents say she was sent to prison but she has not, tell me what you know!” _ _

__Ronan’s whore, as if Peter would touch the Kree knowing what he had been through, as if Ronan would even be interested in a terran like him. Much as Peter disliked being labeled Ronan’s pet, at least it did suggest some form of twisted affection. Anything more was something Peter had to deny, for Ronan’s sake as well as his own._ _

**

The Nova Prime was no idealist, no one who headed a law enforcement agency could be. For all their hopes, they knew to prepare for the worse, and surely Irani knew what this supposed team were capable of. 

Fandral could curse, he could go find someone to duel, he almost considered just moving on from this. According to Thor's stories of Migard, a particularly common saying there was “I did not sign up for this!” 

It was perfectly reasonable to agree to the Nova corps' offer, the peace treaty was still too new and not many agreed with it. Ronan the Accuser was an extremist who was associated with _Thanos_ , of course Fandral would join any party interested in taking him down. Garthan Saal was a decent guy, a bit stiff and too serious but Fandral saw no reason they couldn't work together. 

The rest of this special task force? Not so much. 

“Nova Prime, I must protest the membership of this team.” 

“Protest away, Fandral of Asgard,” Irani didn't sound particularly mocking, but Fandral knew she had to have already investigated his background. She had to know that Fandral was an exile, banished until he had proven his worth and right to return to his homeland. 

“Any team, any party put together for the purpose of a goal, requires a trust and camaraderie, every member of this team has no reason to trust each other. They cannot work together, and even if they could, they are more likely to only do so to escape or kill your people.” 

Irani nodded, “Yes, that's true. You are not telling me anything I do not already know.” 

Fandral frowned and glanced to his side, where Garthan was silently standing, back straight and rigid. This was why Fandral was not part of Asgard's rather impressive armies, the hierarchy and rankings, the discipline and sheer amount of _rules_ , he would have chafted and likely gotten kicked out. Instead he was part of the Warriors Three, famous adventurers and heroes, personal friends with the Asgardian princes. People he had trusted with his life, people who he would die for. 

He couldn't see doing that with his new team, aside from Garthan they were all criminals, and do not get him started on Gamora. Thanos' daughter was already playing games with them. 

Officially the papers said she was sent to the Kyln. After they arrested her, Gamora requested for pen and paper. Considering they were dealing with one of the deadliest assassins in several galaxies, it would not be surprising if she managed to break out and kill someone with writing utensils. Less to humour her and more because Xandarians took such things for granted, one of the officers beamed a holographic screen into her cell, and Gamora started typing. 

When the first interrogators entered her cell, Fandral watching from the outside, Gamora simply turned the holograph to them. The Nova officers took one glance at the words and did a double-take. 

“What is this?” 

“Information,” Gamora elaborated, “The armies remaining to Ronan: After the peace treaty the Kree Empire recalled many of the soldiers under Ronan's command, only a select few and the Sakaaran remain. The design of the Dark Aster: I can't say I've explored the ship in full but I did see the blueprints. Common docking sites: Where Ronan needs to refuel, get supplies, repair his ship after a fight. In other words I have given you information about his resources, his fortress, and where he may appear. I thought we could get the interrogation out of the way – and that's assuming I won't just repeat the lies I may have decided to tell you.” 

Unbelievable, but clever. Gamora just told them she may be lying, but even if they had been considering torture in their interrogation she'd preemptively put a stop in that. 

“Now I'm curious,” the first interrogator drawled, “Assuming we don't just throw this information away, did you actually expect us to just release you? We can still send you to the Kyln, and for someone like you we are not above thinking that you have outlived your usefulness.” 

“Is it so hard to believe that I simply want to stop Ronan and Thanos from committing mass genocide?” 

“Yes,” both interrogators answered. 

“I am wounded by the lack of trust,” and something in the sardonic smirk on her lips, in the tone of her voice...had clued Fandral in. The words and the way she spoke was very _uncharacteristic_ of the infamous assassin. Ronan and the rest of his faction would never speak like that, Thanos' children certainly don't speak like that. 

“Perhaps I grow bored with my missions, you know I am a suspect to several assassinations, and who knows how many more I have committed with orders to be discreet. Perhaps I want something different.” 

“What, a new beginning?” 

“Sarcasm is not your strength, officer.” There was a pause, and Gamora continued, “What does it matter why I want to do this, so long as I am helping you? Despite what the Kree may think, in the leagues of Thanos, Ronan the Accuser is but one man engaging in the politics of one war. Thanos has seen many more wars, some of which he will deem more important then others. Maybe he grows bored of getting involved in this one, or maybe I have new orders that just happens to benefit Xandar.” 

The Nova corps knew this could be a lie, but even as they prepared for the worse, there was a cautious hope there that Gamora was sincere, that she was giving them real information to stop Ronan. 

Of course, Gamora had been lying about Thanos. Seriously, if the Nova corps didn't believe her when she truthfully admitted she didn't want to help with a genocide, she could always expect them to believe that Thanos had new orders for her. 

** 

Drax hadn't been in prison long, when he'd been made the offer. 

There had been the escort by the guards into a room, where a man in civilian attire but clearly belonging to the corps has asked him if he was willing to join a 'special team'. In exchange for his help in taking down Kree elements 'contrary to the interests of the peace treaty', Drax's sentence would be reduced. Honesty, Drax wasn't stupid and news did in fact reach prisons, despite the many protests in the Kree empire against the treaty there was only one person who Nova would be most concerned about: Ronan the Accuser, the one Kree mad enough to bring Thanos into the war. 

He'd said as much to the corpsman, and despite the man's spluttering, Drax had been calm. “I know you can't be specific since there is a chance that I refuse, but you know who my targets had been, and as you offered I will gladly accept.” 

Drax would have helped the Nova corps for free, but he was getting bored of prison anyways. 

“There will be a team of you,” the officer had explained, “You are not the only one to be made this offer. For those who accept, you would be placed under the leadership of a Denerian specifically appointed to your team. Fighting between your teammates and insubordination to your handler is prohibited and would have harsh consequences, you have been warned.” 

“When do we start?” Drax had not been interested in hearing the rest of it, he knew enough. 

“You'll be moved out tonight,” the civilian-dressed officer had left the room, and so did all the guards. Drax already had his suspicions even as sleeping gas filled the cell he was in, and when he woke, he was lying on an unfamiliar bed on what he knew was a moving spaceship. 

“Check it out, the Destroyer's awake.” 

Drax turned his head to the side, which allowed him a better view of the room he was in. Although clearly away from the ship controls, the room wasn't in the lower haul where cargo and prisoners were usually kept. One side of the room was reinforced and tinted glass, likely to prevent outsiders from looking in, and judging by the stars they were already out of Xandar orbit. 

Aside from his own, five other beds lined the wall, along with their occupants. Drax vaguely recognized three as from the Kyln, but the speaker and one other he did not. 

“You missed all the introductions earlier, Destroyer,” one of the other occupants sneered. “The rodent who's trying to speak to you calls himself Rocket.” 

“I wasn't trying to speak to him, humie!” 

“It's Kleff to you, vermin!” 

“All of you accepted the offer?” Drax wasn't too interested in the crimes of his fellow prisoners, but he vaguely recalled that this prisoner got in for blowing up some important building or other. 'Rocket' and the tree-like giant didn't seem to be corpsmen, so either they were from other prisons or just arrested. 

“And all of us were gassed afterwards. We woke up here, no idea where here is except we must be still moving somewhere, the door's locked so we can't leave until someone lets us out.” A three-eyed inmate answered, Drax couldn't recall his name. 

He did notice something, except for the tree-giant all the other prisoners, including himself, had a black, metal-like band wrapped around their throats. Drax ran a hand over the material, felt the smooth and hard surface. There was no opening or close, just a smooth band of metal, not close enough to choke but enough to prevent them from slipping anything between their skin and the foreign collar – because that's what it was. That was what the sleeping gas had been for, to transport them from the prison, and to put this collar on them. 

Without a lock, or even an opening, he didn't even know how they managed to put the collar on him in the first place. He had heard of technology like this, of course, when Drax had initially been arrested it had taken several corpsmen with more fancy gadgets to stop him and they'd been complaining about not getting enough of those special tools. 

“Yea, we tried the brute strength approach earlier,” Three-eyes answered his unvoiced question, “Collars won't break, our new friend there confirmed it's Asgardian tech.” 

The mentioned friend, the one who called himself Rocket, was still exchanging insults with Kleff. 

“There's an Asgardian involved in this,” a more feathery-looking humanoid said in a conspiratory whisper. “When they were transporting me, I woke up earlier, and heard them speaking. Seemed like they got an Asgardian involved in this somehow.” 

“You woke early and didn't try to escape? Idiot...” 

“I am Groot,” the tree-like creature injected. Drax wasn't sure if Groot was expecting some sort of introduction, and the being wasn't even speaking to him. 

“I doubt the Asgardian even knows much of what's going on, it's probably only now they're debriefing him,” Rocket seemed to be answering. “He didn't seem prepared for a fight but was quite eager to start one, only reason I ended here with the rest of you is because he and the corps decided to tag-team us.” 

“If he's working with the corps, why wouldn't he be the one providing them with all this Asgardian tech?” 

For an animal that Drax vaguely recognized as something he had once eaten, the creature could certainly convey facial expression, in this case just plain annoyance with having to explain himself to several less-informed beings: “One, because I was there when they first offered the Asgardian the deal after they managed to settle the gunfight I started. Two, really, if he had control of these collars he wouldn't be wasting them on us. These things would obviously have trackers on them, and he didn't have any to put on his other prize of the night.” 

“But only you and Groot came in,” Feathers pointed out. 

“Oh, I didn't mention this earlier? Gamora was one of those arrested.” 

Seconds after the shouting match erupted, the heavy doors slid open. Flanked by a Denerian and the Asgardian, the green-skinned assassin herself stepped in. 

**_((EARLIER))_ **

When the holographic screen with all her information had been taken away and the officers left her alone, Gamora had started to look around her cell. Apparently that unnerved a lot of her outside observers, who were probably convinced she was planning to break out and kill them all, because not long after the doors had opened for Fandral to enter, sliding quickly closed behind him. 

“I've been asked to be your own personal warden,” Fandral drawled, all confident swagger and Asgardian arrogance. 

“First, that implies you'll be staying here instead of returning to the Nine Realms...”

“We'll definitely be seeing more of each other,” Fandral gave her an exaggerated once-over. 

“...and it also implies I'm not being sent to a regular prison,” Gamora finished. 

“With your infamous and exotic looks?” Gamora didn't look unbalanced or willing to play along, much to Fandral's disappointment. He continued, “Nova is going to do their best to verify the information you've given them. If, you are truly interested in betraying Ronan, you are more then just a source of information. Whatever reason you or Thanos has that suddenly aligns to – at least in this case – Nova's interests, it will be...wasteful, not to use your talents against the Accuser.”

The assassin sighed, “I gave you the information you wanted so we could skip the interrogation stage. If you're asking me to take a more active role, no doubt likely with a team Nova thinks can hold me, can we also pretend that we have argued about the obvious benefits and risks involved, and that you've threatened me sufficiently about the consequences if I decide to betray you as well?” 

“We'll like a sign of good faith,” Fandral placed something on the table, Gamora stared at it. 

“You are joking.” 

“Perfectly serious.” 

“It looks like a tracker, but considering this is a Nova prison we're in, that could be a bomb you're asking me to put on.” 

“Would they put a bomb on you and then ask me to be your handler?” 

“Who wouldn't?” 

Both Gamora and Fandral stared at each other, the latter was the first to break the silence, “The corps won't kill you.” 

“Why not?” 

Fandral's smirk disappeared, he looked more serious now, more Asgardian and less...well, Peter-like, “Because I told them I wanted you.” 

He wasn't being an obnoxious flirt, Gamora realized. “I see, _that's_ why you think Nova won't kill me, because after my usefulness to the Ronan problem ends the corps will hand me over to you. Instead of Nova, it will be Asgard that decides my fate.” 

“You should be grateful, unlike the overcrowded prisons of Nova, Asgard's prisons will protect you from any revenge-seeking prisoner.” 

“Asgard has the death penalty,” Gamora flatly stated. “While I know you won't kill me right away, perhaps in some attempt to get me to reveal some of Thanos' secrets instead, all of us are taught not to be taken alive by the Asgardians – some of your executions are public humiliations.” 

“No more than the criminal deserves,” Fandral clearly wasn't used to restraint, but he wasn't a fool, his eyes had already widened as he realized his mistake. 

“'Rewarded as a traitor deserves'? Are you trying to remind me _not_ to betray Ronan or Thanos?” 

“Far be it for me to go against a lady's wishes, for I do remember what you said,” Fandral's smirk had returned. “I told the corps too, which may be why you're getting this offer. During our little fight you told me you wanted out of Ronan's _and_ Thanos' influence. You _already_ wanted to betray them, I'm just giving you the opportunity, shouldn't I get something in return?”

“You already...” Gamora began, before she stopped, her thoughts coming back together. Fandral couldn't read any expression but for one brief moment she seemed to look at him in a new light, as if she had just realized something.

“What?” He demanded, but knew it was useless. Gamora's expression turned blank again. 

“Whatever nightmares the future holds, are dreams compared to what's behind me.” 

Thanos' daughter looked away, ignoring the Asgardian's attempts to engage her in conversation again, and he eventually quieted. The silence lasted until the doors opened again and several corpsmen, including one Denerian Garthan Saal, stepped into the room. 

The first thing he said: “Why hasn't she put on the tracker?” 

It was Fandral who answered, “Seriously, are we all going to pretend that we think a tracker is going to be much use here?” 

“Of course not,” but Garthan was already turning his attention to Gamora, “Put your tracker on, and I will take you to aboard a ship that will be heading to Sector VI of Turnius.” 

“Ah, one of the places outside the Kree Empire that the Dark Aster docks at.” 

“You seem willing to tell us the truth, and aboard the ship we have repurposed for the task force, there is something else we wish to have answers to. This particular item was intercepted from delivery, before we face the Dark Aster, we wish to know what it is.” 

“You want me to identify if this object happens to be one of Thanos' creations.” That possibility alone would have made Gamora cooperate, if Thanos had provided some new weapon for Ronan, she would make sure the item never got used. Then something else clicked, “You stored a potential weapon of mass destruction on your _ship_?” 

“Away from all our planetary settlements, yes,” Garthan pointed out. 

Gamora gave him a look that showed just how little she thought of that, Garthan met her gaze just as easily. If Fandral was some twisted parallel of what Peter could be like, the Denerian was more like her. There was a hard look in his face, a coldness in his eyes, that Gamora had often seen looking back at her in a mirror. 

Which was why she knew: the deceptively simple-looking wristband was not just a tracker, because had Gamora been the captor with a prisoner who may prove useful, she will indeed plant a bomb on the person who could potentially betray her. There just happens to be a chance she won't actually _use_ the bomb, for example: if there was a promise with another party that the prisoner would be given alive. 

“A chance to see a new weapon, a more direct approach to taking down Ronan,” Garthan summarized, “I do not think Thanos' children were cowards.” 

“That would have been more effective if we haven't been called worse,” she didn't break his gaze, not even as she reached onto the table and picked up the wristband. It was extraordinarily light, she would almost believe there wasn't anything else to it, that the wristband was really just a tracker. Not even Asgardian tech, just simple Xandar-produced trackers. 

The tracker snapped on, and Garthan nodded to one of his entourage, who like the rest of them were all uniformed and masked; all faceless, the type of goons that Fandral and Gamora often killed without thought. The one Garthan nodded to signalled to someone else who might as well be another copy of the same uniformed man. 

“Let's move out!” 

They were escorted by the armed group swiftly, Garthan ahead, followed by Gamora and Fandral behind her. Putting the Asgardian behind her was probably meant to be strategic, but Gamora couldn't help wondering how long the proud Asgardian would tolerate having to follow her around. 

No one said anything as they exited the building and boarded a small ship, everyone was silent as the ship blasted off into space. On a less-equipped ship the gravity would have thrown them all back against the interior, but this was a craft meant to transport military personnel. Small, fast, and secure. The windows showed the stars no more as trails of light flying past them, as the small ship moved past the planet's orbit to a large carrier docked just outside the perimeter. 

Except for the chatter to board the ship carrier - the _Oasis_ 's exterior appearance did just look like a regular civilian carrier, it really was a re-purposed ship - everything was quiet. Although no one pointed their weapons, Gamora could feel the eyes of everyone as they watched her disembark after the Denerian. Only two of the entourage followed her off, the rest remained on the small ship as it set course back into Xandar, as if in a hurry to leave. There was another armed group waiting for them, but their leader only spoke quietly to the Denerian, glancing briefly at the two non-corpsmen. Eventually everyone dispersed, and it was the three of them again. 

“Come with me,” Garthan commanded, and while annoyance flashed in both assassin's and warrior's minds, both Gamora and Fandral obeyed. 

Much of the _Oasis_ was like any other medium-sized carrier, a dull metal blue ship capable of hosting a larger crew and perhaps carrying few smaller ships. It was clearly under utilized, but it made sense considering if they were trying to convert the ship to unofficial business. The three of them went down flights of stairs, and arrived to a set of heavy doors with two guards, who upon Garthan's request unlocked them. 

Initially the room appeared dark and empty, but as the doors opened motion-sensor lights turned on, revealing a surprise in the centre of the room. Both Fandral and Gamora were too well trained to react, but they couldn't stop the instinctive widening of their eyes. 

Something was lying there on its side, motionless, as if dead. Glassy eyes seemed to stare at the newcomers, and the long snout turned at their direction looked quite capable of sniffing and tracking them down. The creature wasn't that big, at most it might have reached Gamora's shoulder in height and she was shorter than her male counterparts in the room. Size wasn't the issue, the claws on the creature was sickle-like and cruel, and the row of sharp teeth peeking out at them revealed one simple fact: this was a predator species. 

“What,” Fandral said flatly, “Is that thing?” 

“This,” Garthan answered, “Was what we intercepted from Ronan.” 

Gamora approached the creature slowly, half expecting it to rear up and strike. When nothing happened she began to cautiously circle around it, trying to memorize the features. Judging by the different-sized front and back limbs it travelled on two feet, and the long tail might have been used for balance because it didn't look like it contained any venom of sorts. The tail, like the rest of the creature's body, was not fur or feathers so the creature must come from warmer climates - 

No, she was looking at this wrong, the creature's exterior surface looked normal enough, but what she thought were glassy eyes were literally too glassy...

“This isn't any normal being,” she looked at Garthan, who gave her a bland smile. 

“No, it's something like you, some hybrid of a living organism modified with enough technology that makes us unsure what the original being was, if it even remains anymore because we've already tested enough to think this creature is the combination of several others. As I've been told, it's quite an amazing work of science.” 

“Is that why you were with that Half-world scientist?” Fandral asked. 

Garthan didn't seem keen on answering directly, “According to them, this creature seems to be set to the equivalent of a machine's sleep mode. There is definitely something working in the machine equivalent of what we assume to be the brain, but it is not responding to any external stimuli. The experts seem to think there is some trigger we are missing, something that would supposedly turn this creature active, because this creature seems capable to being more than something simply responsive. Unfortunately, all the original handlers for transporting this cargo were killed during the altercation, so we have no one to question.”

“I have not heard of Ronan expecting such a package,” Gamora confessed. “Neither did he mention a new member joining his army, and he takes his title as Accuser seriously so I doubt he wants to employ a sentiment being as his new weapon.” 

“You know nothing then, of what this creature could be?” 

“Do you truly think it wise to find out?” Fandral eyed the unmoving creature, “This isn't just some animal, the teeth and claws already makes it a danger. Looks quite capable of speed too, interesting as it may be to see this animal in the wild I highly doubt the same applies if this thing _got loose in the ship_.” 

“I'll rather it not get loose anywhere, for all we know, Ronan may have multiple specimens and we have to know what this thing may be capable of.” Nevertheless Garthan was already gesturing for them all to leave, leading them back up the stairs to where the other convicts were. For all that the creature remained unmoving, it was too unnerving to be in the same room. 

**_((LATER, AND NOW))_**

“Gentlemen, I believe we need no introductions,” Let it not be said that Fandral couldn't be courteous, although calling this group of criminals 'gentlemen' may be laying it thick. “I am Fandral, of Asgard. This is Denerian Garthan Saal, your handler, and this is Gamora, your fellow team mate in our task.” 

“ _She's_ going to betray Ronan?” Feathers asked in disbelief. 

“You're really going to trust the lackey of a genocidal maniac to play nice?” Rocket closed his eyes, as if hoping to block out the stupidity around him. “I think she knocked you a little too hard on the head earlier.” 

“You expect this traitor not to stab us in the back?” Three-eyes demanded, “She's a murderer more likely to kill us in our sleep!” 

“This is Ronan's compatriot,” Drax had a way of silencing anyone else who wanted to speak, they all knew not to interrupt him. “And you will welcome her among us, instead of giving her the punishment she deserves.” 

“I hardly think any of you are in a position to be judging each other,” Fandral began. “The whole purpose of this team is to take down Ronan...” 

“Ronan killed my wife and daughter,” Drax snarled, “All to prove himself worthy of the Mad Titan. I think all of us know the story: The Nova and Kree Empires had been at war for generations, developing and losing new allies and weaponry, but despite that the war continued. Thanos has the power to destroy either of the empires and end the war, but saw no reason to interfere. When Ronan proposed an alliance, Thanos told him to prove his worth by slaughtering a non-combative planet. My planet, and Ronan did it, he slaughtered everyone down to the last child – and he _laughed_.” 

There was a tense silence, many prisoners of the Kyln had lost their families in the Kree-Nova war, and no doubt so had many of the corpsmen now aboard the Oasis. Drax's people weren't even part of the two empires, but that was Thanos for you, testing how much his potential allies had for stomaching the deaths of so many innocents. So many pointless deaths, and the risk of alienating already existing allies; Ronan certainly couldn't have been the first to think Thanos could help them end the war but he was the first to actually past Thanos' test. 

“Drax,” Fandral had looked over all the inmates' records, and he definitely remembered the one with the personal grudge against the Accuser, “Ronan hasn't just killed your family, he has killed many and he will continue killing. The only thing possibly holding him from bringing Thanos into this and killing everyone in the Nova empire, is whatever Thanos asked Ronan to do for his side of the deal. If Gamora intends to...” 

“I do not care for what she intends!” Drax roared, “Give me the chance and I will kill Ronan, give me one of his accomplices and I will just as happily kill them to let Ronan know what it's like to lose someone!”

“This is the team I am supposed to work with?” Gamora addressed her captors, “He is an utter fool.” 

Drax's hand suddenly shot forward, the man definitely deserved his fearsome reputation because even before anyone could react Drax had his fingers wrapped around Gamora's throat. Before he could cause further harm the Denerian handler finally spoke. 

“If you kill her now, Ronan will simply move on,” Unlike Fandral, Garthan made no attempt at empathy, his voice was hard and flat. “If you let her live, Ronan will come after her, to rescue her if he cares, or to kill her when he learns she has betrayed his secrets to us. Stand down, Drax the Destroyer, before we decide your rage outmatches your usefulness.” 

“Come on, big guy,” a part of Fandral wanted to draw his weapons, but since the whole thing with Jotunheim and the treason charge and now his own banishment, he was really trying to avoid going for fighting as the first response. “What do you say? We can go around in circles forever hunting for Ronan, why not just let him come to us?” 

There was another tense moment, Drax's rage was a volcanic explosion barely held back and despite the fact that she was having trouble breathing the glacial disdain in Gamora's eyes showed her defiance. Fandral's hand twitched nervously. 

“Drax, we're all on the same ship – literally, we're all watching each other and she's agreed to bring us to Ronan, I think we've got this.” 

“Okay,” Rocket's ears flattened to his head, “ _Why did you have to say that_?”

And that's when they heard an explosion, and the Oasis shook. 

The whole floor rattled under their feet, Three-eyes and Feathers were knocked back to the wall and Kleff scrambled to grab for support. Drax released Gamora, quickly stabilizing himself. Gamora dropped to the ground gasping for breath, but her eyes and ears were already on alert. Garthan and Fandral managed to stay on their two feet. 

“What was that?” Fandral winced at the cliche and stupidity of the question, “Didn't you say the ship went through a detailed check up?” 

“Everything should be in working order, it may simply be a small malfunction,” Garthan answered. 

“Yea, because another alternative is we are _being freaking attacked_ , thank you Asgardian for the jinx!” Rocket snarled.

“Get back into the room!” Garthan was sprinting down the hallway, Rocket let out a snort.

“Yea, like that's going to happen.” 

Before Fandral could stop them, Rocket was taking off after the Denerian, closely followed by Groot. Just as he cursed himself for letting the two strange bounty hunters slip right past him, he met Gamora's eyes and she did the exact same thing. 

“Hey!” He shouted as she effortlessly slipped past his arm and out the hallway, at least she appeared to be also following the Denerian. Fandral was about to close the door and go after them when Drax's hand suddenly got between them. 

“Let me out.” 

“Listen, big guy, you're staying inside or I'm going to raise the alarm...” 

“That I have escaped? We are in deep space, where exactly do you think I could go?” Like Fandral and Gamora, Drax's eyes were those of a true killer, the type who saw no difference in pushing someone out of the way or killing them on the spot. “If Ronan has already caught up with us, I will not sit by idly. Furthermore...” a strong arm suddenly wrestled the door wide open, “You know I will definitely go to Ronan, but even without escape what mischief can the others do?” 

“You...!” Oh, Fandral was going to have _words_ , and maybe a few punches, with Drax after all. Giving up on the essential arm wresting competition, he jumped into the room to block the other criminals from escaping. Drax stepped out into the hallway and hurried after the others. 

“What happened?” Garthan asked as he stepped into the control room, the pilot gave him the dreaded answer. 

“We're being attacked, but they've only fired a warning shot.” 

“Is it the Dark Aster?” Gamora asked, Garthan did a double take. 

“Where's the Asgardian?” He looked around to see no Fandral, there was however the Half-world subject and the strange talking tree. There was also the Destroyer stepping up beside him. “Where's the...” 

“Spare me your irksome repetitions, he's alive and guarding the others,” Drax answered. “Is it Ronan?” 

“No,” the pilot looked at Garthan, “It appears to be Ravagers, sir.” 

“Ravagers?” Rocket groaned, “Oh great, of course, this isn't a military ship and it doesn't look commercial, so of course the pirates think they're probably crashing a private party.” 

“I am Groot,” the vocabulary was limited but there was a worried tone. 

“Do we not have defences?” Drax demanded.

“A re-purposed ship that happens to be carrying several criminals?” Rocket shook his head, “We won't have any firepower on this, not even the Nova corps are that stupid.” 

“Neither are Ravagers, usually they don't aim to destroy the ships they're planning to rob but sometimes the more zealous members have been known to do so and _they're attacking again_...!” The Oasis let out another rumble as another small explosion clipped its side. Garthan scowled. 

“Get us out of here!” 

The ship accelerated and blasted off, proving it capable of more than just the regular ship-carrier speed. Unfortunately it had taken two hits, and while the Ravagers were good enough with not aiming at anything too vital, eventually they will need to stop and make repairs. 

Also, Garthan swore to keep an eye on Rocket, at the display of speed there was a little gleam in those intelligent dark eyes. Turning around to address the others, he stopped. “Where's Gamora?” 

“One of your men told her to return to her room, much to my surprise, she left with him,” Drax answered. 

The Denerian felt a sense of unease, her own room? “How did that conversation go?” 

“He simply told Gamora she should go back if she likes pina coladas.” 

“I am Groot?” 

“What the heck is a pina coladas?” Rocket's tone said he wasn't actually that interested, but Garthan's blood went cold. 

His mind archived many files and reports, even of those that had no direct relation to his work. There was a mental file he had, for the interesting anecdotes some of the regular corpsmen working in public order had shared in the office. Garthan remembered this one because the arresting corpsman had been there when the corps were reviewing the known accomplices of Ronan the Accuser. 

The officer remembered the song of the delinquent he had once caught, Garthan remembered the oddity of an Accuser associating so closely with such a person. 

_He had a song that goes 'if you like Pina Coladas...'_

Garthan turned to Drax, “You want to cause Ronan pain? Find his pet Terran who had somehow sneaked into this ship.” 

Outside of the control room, the hallways were unadorned and plain, in some areas where the hallways had windows an observer would be able to see the light of space, the beauty of billions of stars and planets. This particular hallway was not one of those, just one of the many winding through the Oasis, but it was quiet, away from the hustle and bustle of the corpsmen and the criminals. 

This is where Gamora stood, her face was perfectly expressionless again, but there was no defiance this time, no anger. 

Standing across from her, a young man dressed in Nova corps uniform, the helmet removed to reveal a painfully familiar face. 

“You shouldn't be doing that,” Gamora pointed out. “Someone could walk in and recognize you.” 

“For a ship being re-purposed for unofficial business, there sure are many uniforms running around,” Peter answered. His voice was shaken, Gamora hated it, especially as Peter continued. “That Denerian said 'A more direct approach to taking down Ronan', you're planning to betray us? Why?” 

“You were one of my escorting corpsmen?” Gamora really didn't want to have the betrayal conversation with Peter. “Leave this ship, Peter, and stay away from Ronan. There are many planets out there who welcome a Terran...” 

“Tolerate a Terran,” Peter countered. “You of all people should know what it's like out there, for people like us. How could you do this? You told me you thought Ronan one of the better allies Thanos had you working with, _why would you betray him_?” 

“It wasn't my original intention, I don't expect you to understand...” 

“I _don't_!” Peter stepped closer, hands held out in peace, in plea. “Let's get out of here, I have one of the escape pods rigged and ready for us. We can just leave, whatever you've done, we can stop this right now.” 

“I can't...” 

“Is it that tracker?” Peter eyed the black wristband, “It doesn't matter. You can break out of it, and the escape pods they have here are good, we can get out of this Oasis' reach and dispose of it after.” 

Gamora shook her head, “You know I don't mean that.” 

“No, I don't believe it.” 

“Peter, I've already sold Ronan out.” 

The words were like a slap, Gamora never had any malicious intentions for Peter, as it was something inside her twisted painfully at the look on Peter's face. 

“You told them...” 

“Everything,” Gamora finished. “There is no reason for you to be here, and there is no reason for you to run back to Ronan. Stay low until this ends, for your own good.” 

“You did not tell us everything,” another voice interrupted, causing both Peter's and Gamora's heads to whip towards the newcomer. “The Denerian said the Terran was never mentioned in your information.” 

The forbidding figure approaching them was truly a sight, there was power in the man's thick bulk and the intricate red tattoos were like a physical representation of the blood this man had spilled. Gamora mentally cursed, the man had not only almost strangled her but now managed to sneak up behind her, he deserved his reputation and more. 

“Who are you?” Peter asked, and Gamora's mental cursing turned into a mental face-palm. 

Thankfully the newcomer didn't take offence, “They call me Drax the Destroyer.” 

Gamora stepped forward, as if dismissing Peter, “He's a mere Terran, why does he matter?” 

Drax was not swayed, and his footsteps did not falter. “Do not try to lie to me, I can see that you want to protect him, even as you pretend otherwise. Whether he sees it or not, I do not know or care. I do know, unlike with you, that no one is forbidding me to kill him.” 

Peter braced himself, slipping into a more combative posture, only Gamora now stepped right into Drax's path. 

“Lay one hand on him and I'll tear it off.” 

Drax threw the first punch. 

Gamora dodged to the side, her hair just narrowly missing the attack. Having witnessed Drax's speed earlier, she threw herself past him and behind. Her leg swung upwards only for Drax to catch it, but it wasn't enough to stop her from bodily spinning herself up and wrapping her arms around Drax's neck. 

“Run!” She ordered Peter. Rather than listen to her the mask flickered on, shielding his face and preparing for battle. “Oh for the love of...” 

With a roar Drax threw her off him, she went skidding backwards down the hallway. Peter pulled out twin blasters – really, shouldn't he be more discreet? - only to get solidly knocked off his feet by the charging Destroyer. One blaster went sliding across the floor, the other remained in Peter's hand even as his propeller boots activated. The Terran shot out of Drax's grip and even before he was on his feet had opened fire. 

Drax rolled away, there was a sizzling crater where he had been lying earlier. Snarling, Drax grabbed the discarded blaster. Behind his mask, Peter's eyes widened. 

“Oh s...” 

The hallway wasn't big, strategically this was one of the worse places Peter ever found himself fighting in. He dropped backwards, luck meant the first two blasts went over him, the third was shot towards the ceiling when Gamora tackled Drax and threw his aim off. 

“I'll be taking that,” the new voice was followed up by a swift punch that Peter, even without looking, managed to dodge. He spun around to face the newcomer, a man looking remarkably like the best Terra and Xandar had to offer, or just an Asgardian. He had probably been aiming to steal Peter's blaster, only to miss. 

Fandral grinned, “You have good instincts.” 

“You have too much armour,” Peter replied, and punched the guy in the face. 

But Fandral wasn't so easily winded, even as he staggered back he managed to kick the blaster out of Peter's hand. By the Allfather, this would be so much easier if he still had his weapons. He threw another kick just as Peter attempted a punch, the two of them managed to knock each other down. Peter looked up, saw the blaster just lying a few feet from him, and scrambled to pick it up. 

“No firearms!” Fandral shouted as he sprang forward. Peter simply turned onto his back and used both feet to kick him in the torso, it had enough strength to send Fandral crashing backwards into Gamora and Drax. 

“Asgardian!” Both of them roared. 

“Not my fault!” 

Peter grabbed the blaster and aimed, only to hesitate, Gamora was too tangled up with the other two...

“There they are!” Another voice shouted, from behind the three fighters something was running forward. Something small and furry...

A raccoon. 

A raccoon wearing clothes. 

What the...

“Hurry up already!” 

It was a _talking raccoon_ , seriously?!

From behind the animal there was a tree, it was walking and growing branches and reaching towards the raccoon, the fighters, pass them...

“Get back!” Peter shouted as the rope-like branches suddenly swirled around him, he opened fire, managing to destroy several branches but the tree was growing them even faster and this was reminding him of some tentacle monster that was finally bringing in his instinct to just _run like hell_. It's while he's so focused on the branches from above, he managed to miss the raccoon when it finally pounced with enough force for him to stumble. 

The raccoon also stole his gun, freaking scavenger. 

Vines and branches were suddenly all around him, launching onto his legs, tying around his arms, and even as he struggled he could feel them tightening all around him. He gasped, struggling as much as he could, kicking and squirming even as he could feel them wrapping around his mask, threatening to crush. 

“Let him go!” Gamora had managed to keep Fandral and Drax occupied, but she had no way of distracting two of the galaxy's most famous bounty hunters at the same time. 

“ _You know, I had wondered why the infamously quiet Gamora was making sarcastic jokes_ ,” Garthan's voice came from the speakers, for a while distracting everyone from their respective fights. “ _I knew you were acting out of character but I thought it may some sort of tactic to throw off the interrogation, but it may also be something else. Peter Quill, while having no more record of engaging with Nova corps since his Ravager days, is a well known associate of Ronan the Accuser and thus a person of interest. Like you, we know he is a member of the Dark Aster, and you seem invested in his well-being. Perhaps you two are lovers?_ ” 

Gamora almost rolled her eyes, “Just because I'm a woman I have to be in love?” 

“ _Again with the sarcasm, but it makes no difference exactly what the nature of your relationship is. I do not care how altruistic your intentions could be, you attacked members of the team, and need a reminder that is unforgivable. Everyone, step back from the Zen-Whoberi_.” 

“What...” Fandral began, but he and Drax both automatically stepped back, and just in time. Electricity suddenly burst from Gamora's tracker and coursed through her body, and she _screamed_. “What in Ragnarok?!” 

Garthan didn't reply, he didn't have to. Everyone was showing varying degrees of horror, even Drax was clearly unprepared for the sight of Gamora screaming in pain, her body flashing with electric blue and white. Rocket's eyes were wide open and Groot had stopped trying to crush Peter, who couldn't escape and could only watch helplessly. 

As quickly as the electrocution started, it ended, and this time Gamora simply crumpled to the floor. Her black and red hair covered one side of her face, the rest of it spread like a dark halo around her. She didn't move. 

For a moment, there was a dead silence.

“Let me go,” Peter's voice was quiet first, before he grew louder. “You BASTARD! I'm going to destroy this ship! Release me now! Xandarian, you will pay for this! Let me go!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, there was a velociraptor aboard the ship, as fun as it'll be writing a T-rex rampaging around the Oasis there's a part of me that still thinks it's too big, so a raptor it is. It's also why I haven't really bothered to name the OCs, we can all guess what happens next, Fandral definitely jinxes everything.


End file.
